Old Times
by PherisphenaLadea
Summary: Remember that heist Keller told us about by the glow of his lighter in episode 3.11? The one involving Neal fleeing the scene with him, covered in nothing but a solid gold tray? Yep. This is that heist, written in full, because it deserved to be. (Hints of NealxKeller.)


"You there! Stop where you are!"

_Shit,_ was the first proper word through Neal's mind.

The concrete of the window ledge felt rough and uncomfortable under Neal's bare feet as he hurriedly bounded to the next window ledge over, three stories above the well-manicured ground. Behind him, the discord of shouts and opening doors was loud and invasive-he could feel their pounding feet through the walls of the Victorian-style mansion. The vibrations resonated right through the bathrobe he had managed to snag and rattled his ribs.

Still, distracting the princess had been a necessary measure; how else could they get her away from the party long enough for his partner in crime to snag that multi-million-euro brooch?

The distraction had been Keller's idea. Neal had protested at the time-he hadn't seen why it was needed-but Keller had cheekily remarked that Neal was more popular with the ladies, and already seemed to have made quite an effect on the princess in an earlier introduction. Neal had pouted for a while afterward, but it wasn't really any trouble to him. Let Keller have his laugh. Neither of them would be sorry if all went well.

Gritting his teeth, Neal leapt to the next ledge-and stumbled.

The window behind the ledge he had just vacated burst open, and several shouting guards forced their bodies through the orifice. Neal bit back a yelp and managed to regain his balance, immediately vaulting himself to the next ledge. "Ow," he muttered. That concrete really was rugged.

_Only three more to go_, he told himself. _Keep it together, Caffrey._

Why the mansion itself had so many rooms on this particular floor or why the princess's room was a full house-length from his and Keller's rendezvous point was anyone's guess. Neal cursed lightly under his breath. He really was the living bait of this heist.

He sprung to the next ledge-only two left to cross-and was greeted by two more guards waiting for him by the open window.

They wasted no time striking; Neal just barely managed to duck a saber swung viciously close to his head. Another saber came from below-Neal jumped as high as he could and made for the next ledge.

Before he could get there, however, one of the worst imaginable things happened-the guard, in an attempt to incapacitate him, grabbed for his bathrobe, and tore it clean off of him.

Neal did not wait for the shock to register; he leapt clumsily for the next ledge and snagged a gold tray sitting on a desk through the next open window, startling a maid who was trying to dust the windowsill.

Below him, he could see guards pouring out of the main entrance. To Neal's horror, each turned his head upward to get a glimpse at him, and-even worse-cocked their firearms.

_Don't look down, don't look down. Last ledge. You can do this._

Neal forced back his panic and jumped to the last window ledge-and was immediately pulled roughly into the adjacent window, which in his terror, he had not noticed was open.

Neal scrambled to regain himself, ready to fend off another bout of guards, and came nose-to-nose with Matthew Keller.

"Made quite a show of yourself, eh, Caffrey?" were the first words out of his partner's mouth, familiarly twanged with his blue collar accent. Even in the dimness of the room, his smirk was easily visible.

"Shut it," snapped Neal, adjusting a more defensive grasp on the tray and trying to hide the wave of relief that had surged through him at the sight of his partner. "You'd better have what we came for. Do you have _any_ idea what I went through to give you that kind of distraction?"

In spite of himself, Keller gave Neal a wide-grinned once-over, adopting his usual lazy, open posture. "I'm sure it was quite the display."

Neal urgently fought the impulse to pummel his partner, right then and there, but reminded himself of the sensitivity of the situation and managed to hold himself together. He hoped dearly that the heat climbing up his neck was a result of dodging all those guards.

"Let's just get out of here. Where's the fire escape?"

Keller made an effort to compose himself-he was still struggling to swallow his laughter-and waved Neal over to a small corner of the room. He pulled back a curtain, revealing a narrow staircase looping downward from the ceiling and descending into a dark, smallish crevice in the polished wood-panel floors./

Neal glanced at his partner, who was still snickering, at the fire escape, and then back at his partner, and said, "Nope, I'm after you."

Keller looked ready to say something snarky in rebuttal, but distant footsteps began pounding down the hall beyond the bedroom door, so he swallowed his remark and began descending.

Neal followed close behind, feeling horribly exposed, tugging the curtain back across the escape as he went. His head disappeared through the edge of the crevice just as the bedroom door burst open.

The sequence of events that followed were mostly a blur for Neal; he had his hands full making sure that the tray was in a practical position, while simultaneously trying to descend the tiny staircase as quickly and gracefully as the situation allowed. When they finally made it away from the manor and had snuck across the manicured lawn, which was blissfuly devoid of saber-bearing guards, Keller practically collapsed into the bushes. It took everything Neal had to keep himself in check while his friend shook with barely-quieted laughter.

Willing his voice not to crack-please god don't crack-he snapped, "Damn it, Keller, where's the go-bag?"

Keller, wiping the tears streaming from his face, pulled himself upright and supported himself on the trunk of a nearby tree with one hand. "Christ, I oughta take a picture!" he croaked. "This is one for the books!"

"Keller, I _swear_ on my _life_, when we're out of this, I'm going to-"

"Right, okay, okay," Keller cleared his throat to disperse the last few giggles, waving his hand loosely at Neal before he could finish his half-baked threat. After another moment spent gathering himself, he fumbled around under a layer of dead leaves before tossing a small duffel bag in Neal's direction.

Neal all but dropped the tray in his eagerness to be covered in something other than a small rectangle of solid gold, and scrambled behind the tree to pull on a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.

In the distance, shouts rose in volume again; spotlights were still glaring from the front of the manor, and Neal could hear dogs barking.

"We've gotta get out of here," rasped Keller, snatching the bag from Neal and stuffing the gold tray inside. For the first time that night, Neal couldn't have agreed more with his partner.

They ran-Neal barefoot and sweating bullets, Keller still out of breath from his laughing fit-until they reached the main road and snuck alongside it in the fading dusk. The truck, blissfully, was waiting on schedule, and they somehow managed to sneak into the cargo load and slide the door closed behind them just as the engine overturned.

It was dark in their little crate, and a tad cramped; space enough for both of them to sit without touching, but still a little too close for comfort. When they had been driving for a few minutes, a flare lighted adjacent to Neal, startling him a little. It took him a moment in his still-adrenaline-loaded state to realize that it was Keller's lighter.

"We're out of the woods," he said, flashing Neal a pompous grin. "And you, my friend, performed wonderfully."

"Just show me the brooch, will you?" said Neal brusquely.

Keller chuckled and reached into his suit pocket-he looked good in a tux, Neal grudgingly admitted-and drew out a small piece of jewel-encrusted metal that sparkled even in the dim glow of the lighter. At the sight of it, Neal's post-heist influx of endorphins finally kicked in; the multi-million-euro brooch was theirs.

Told you it'd work, didn't I?" remarked his partner, rotating it a bit for a better look. "We're rich men, you and me. And we got that tray as a bonus. That's nice work, Caffrey."

Neal couldn't argue with that, but he was still a bit flustered; not to mention significantly vexed. Still, despite himself, he could feel a grin spreading across his face.

"There's that smile," said Keller, passing the brooch to Neal. "Knew it had to show up sometime."

"I'm just glad it's over," muttered Neal.

"Hey, don't be such a sulk," said his partner, loosening his bowtie.

"Oh, yeah?" said Neal sullenly, preferring to keep his gaze on the brooch in his hand. "And why shouldn't I be?"

"Because," said Keller, leaning forward. His smiling eyes glinted in the lighter's radiance. "I've got your back, Caffrey. Always will."

~::~

**A/N: This fic was a request from my lovely friend Abbie, a fellow White Collar fan, and after many weeks of dragging my feet I finally managed to finish it. Abbie, I hope this at least somewhat lived up to your expectations.**

**Please feel free to review; I'd love to hear feedback. **


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